Turning Eight
by BookHobbit
Summary: PreLOTR. It is Pippin's birthday, but he does not want it to be. Merry finds out why. Nonslash, vignette 1 of 1. COMPLETE


Disclaimer - None of these belong to me, I'm only taking them out to play for a bit.  
  
A/N - All feedback appreciated. Please enjoy!  
  
Turning Eight  
  
Meriadoc Brandybuck could hear the wails of the youngest Took almost as soon as he entered the Tooks' home in Whitwell. He cringed for a moment, wondering if the windows were likely to break from the force of Peregrin Took's cries, then strode purposefully down the hall to his cousin's room. Merry paused outside the door, reflecting on Pearl's words when he had reached his relatives' smial: "Merry-lad, prepare yourself, because you're in for a battle. Pip's in a temper today, and on his birthday of all days!" Taking a deep breath and straightening his best waistcoat (worn in honor of Pippin's birthday), he opened the door and was greeted by a scene of chaos.  
  
Pimpernel and Pervinca were tussling with their younger brother, apparently trying to get his coat on him, but Pippin was having none of it. He flailed his arms, kicked his legs, shouted as loud as he could, and in general attempted to escape their grasps. The covers on his bed were rumpled and untidy, as if a small hobbit had climbed over them or leapt atop them to evade capture. Toys were strewn about the room, as if the same hobbit had thrown them at his sisters in his fury at being dressed. "No!" Pippin yelled. "No no no NO!"  
  
"Peregrin Took, stop this childish behavior right now! Mum told us you were to wear your nicest clothes today, and wear them you most certainly shall!" Pimmie announced. She was nineteen and very bossy at times.  
  
Pippin's face screwed up as if he wished to turn it inside out. "NO!"  
  
"Pippin, sweetheart, please put this lovely coat on," Vinca coaxed. At thirteen, Vinca was the youngest of Pippin's sisters and often able to persuade him to do things others couldn't. "Our little lad will look so handsome and grown up in it, won't he?"  
  
Tears ran down Pippin's face and he shook his head stubbornly, his disorderly copper curls swinging. "NO!"  
  
"What's all this?" Merry asked, shocked at the spectacle before him.  
  
His cousins, even Pippin, looked up in surprise. Pippin scowled and half-heartedly pushed Vinca's hand with his coat away from his arm. "Thank goodness," Vinca murmured. She stood up and walked to Merry, handing him the coat with a quick, "Good luck" before leaving.  
  
Pimmie, on the other hand, gracefully rose from her crouching position near her brother and said curtly, "You'll be able to finish dressing him, then?"  
  
Merry nodded, stopping a smile from breaking out on his face. Pimmie liked to admit she could not do something even less than Pearl, the oldest sister, did. Pimmie swept past him (at a quick pace, he noted), shutting the door behind her.  
  
Merry turned back to Pippin and looked at him in part amusement, part loving exasperation. For his part, Pippin did not face his cousin, but he did not make any effort to wipe his face dry, either. The Brandybuck sighed and sat down in front of him, studying his disheveled appearance. "Why don't you want to get dressed, Pip?"  
  
Pippin said nothing, one hand picking at the threads in the carpet.  
  
Merry used a different tactic. "Your party will begin in a bit, and all of your friends and relations will wonder what happened to you if you aren't there."  
  
Pippin remained stoically silent.  
  
Merry picked up the coat and inspected it, as if to find a defect. He felt Pippin's eyes watching him warily, but when he looked back his cousin had diverted his glance to the rug. The older hobbit held out the coat expectantly and Pippin cautiously lifted his head to stare at it. "What's wrong with it?"  
  
"'S itchy," Pippin mumbled, clearly irritated at his cousin's persistence.  
  
'Well,' Merry thought, 'it's progress.' "Your mum made it just for your birthday, I know that, Pippin. Do you really think she would have made you an itchy coat?" Pippin shrugged uncertainly. "Why don't you try it on and make sure of it?" Merry cajoled.  
  
Pippin's eyes widened and moved involuntarily to Merry's face. Merry felt he had finally prevailed, though he wisely didn't show it; Pippin had never lied straight to Merry's face since he was born, and to do so would go against his very being. The two were best friends, better than cousins; Merry had often felt Pippin was his younger brother, and Pippin seemed to share that belief. Whatever escapades or mischief they had gotten into, together or separate, neither had ever been less than truthful to the other. "I..." Pippin trailed off and bit his lip. "All right," he whispered, reaching out one hand for the coat. Merry gave it to him and the hobbit slipped into it, smoothing his shirt free of wrinkles as he did. Pippin straightened it and looked at Merry with a sulky expression. "It's not as itchy as I thought," he allowed.  
  
"Good," Merry replied, grinning and standing up. He offered a hand to Pippin, but the Took sat back down, pulling his knees to his chest and clutching them with both arms. Groaning inwardly, Merry took a seat on the floor near him. "What is the problem now?"  
  
"Dun wan ten ate," Pippin muttered, his lip poking out dolefully.  
  
"You - what?" Merry inquired with a startled face.  
  
Pippin sighed and hugged his legs harder, as though trying to hold himself there and not bolt and hide. "I do not want to - to turn eight!" he cried out with a vehemence that surprised Merry.  
  
"Whyever not?"  
  
Pippin rested his forehead on his knees and whispered, "Because I'll have to get a new best friend." Merry gazed at him, dumbfounded and speechless. Pippin plainly realized this and continued, "You did, Merry, remember, when you were eight. Cousin Frodo was your best friend before I was born but when I was I was your best friend and Frodo did not have one." Pippin's shoulders started shaking and Merry slowly understood he was sobbing. "Now, when a baby is born he will have to be my best friend and you won't have one. And I do not want any other best friend than you, Merry."  
  
"Oh, Pippin," Merry said softly, aghast. He pulled the little hobbit onto his lap and Pippin turned his face to his older cousin's comforting shoulder and wept. "Oh, Pip, no, no. You don't have to have a new best friend because you are eight, Pip. Shhh, it's all right, shhh."  
  
"I - I don't?" Pippin asked, his voice quavering and his body shuddering.  
  
"No, dear Pippin," Merry replied soothingly. He rubbed his cousin's back gently. "How long have you thought that?" he questioned, but his mind wondered how long his impending birthday had terrified Pippin. He planted a kiss in Pippin's curls at the thought.  
  
"Since you came over last, for Lithe, and told," Pippin sniffled, "told me what happened when I was born." He snuggled deeper into Merry's arms and Merry hugged him harder, heedless of how wet his best clothes were becoming. Lithe had been months ago.  
  
"And you've thought you'd have to get a new best friend since then." Merry closed his eyes, pained at how the story had frightened his dear little cousin. "Oh, Pippin. The next time you think such a thing, talk to your mum and da, or your sisters, or me. Don't let it eat you up inside like you have. Please don't, Pip. My poor lad."  
  
Pippin wept a minute or so longer while Merry rocked him and whispered easing nonsense. At last he raised his head. Green eyes that never failed to remind Merry of his first sight of the tiny baby he had been pierced Merry's own blue-gray eyes. "I'm glad you'll still be my best friend, Merry. I don't know what I'd do without you."  
  
"Neither do I without you," Merry answered simply and smiled, though his eyes were wet. He embraced Pippin one last moment then rose, placing his cousin on his furry feet. "Do you feel better about your birthday, now?" he queried and Pippin nodded. The older hobbit fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the younger's face dry.  
  
"Merry, your jacket's so wet. What will your mum and da say?"  
  
"I'll just tell them I had to dunk your head into a bucket of water so you would get dressed," Merry responded, fussily wrapping Pippin's scarf about his neck.  
  
Pippin giggled, a welcoming sound that assuaged Merry's guilt and brought bright sparks of joy to both pairs of eyes. "Oh, Merry! You would never do that!"  
  
"Don't be so sure, young Took." Merry narrowed his eyes and grimaced at Pippin, who shrieked and ran chortling down the hall and outside. Merry, growling fiercely, caught him in the field where his birthday celebration would soon begin and carried him triumphantly over his shoulder, their laughter mingling in the autumn breeze.  
  
~finis~ 


End file.
